


Kneeling at my Predetermined Grave

by Egotisticalfloof



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier (RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:39:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egotisticalfloof/pseuds/Egotisticalfloof
Summary: Dark didn't believe he was capable of love, but the petals on his pillow tell a different story.





	Kneeling at my Predetermined Grave

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a discussing with my friend Megan [@Endlcss-possibilities](https://endlcss-possibilities.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr about Dark suffering from Hanahaki Disease over unrequited love for Mark...and this happened lmao
> 
> I am by no means literate in the language of the flowers, but I tried ^^

 

 

The first time Dark woke to find a petal on his pillow, he didn’t pay it much mind, merely frowned in confusion and threw it out. It had been a Daffodil petal, bright yellow and curved against the grey of Dark’s aura, and though Dark didn’t remember being around flowers the previous day, he assumed it had come off Chica and ignored it.

Petals continued appearing on his pillow when he woke up, always from a different flower, and when it became too much of a pattern for it simply to be Chica bringing them in on her fur, Dark began to pay attention to the meaning behind the petals.

Daffodils for unrequited love.

Rich, red carnations for deep romantic love.

A combination of white and yellow tulips for one sided love and hopeless love respectively.

Each petal was soft to the touch and slightly damp, and every morning there would be an assortment of them resting on his pillow. Dark was perturbed about where they were coming from, and the meanings behind them. He lived alone with Mark, and there was no way Mark was leaving these petals for him to find. A part of him thought of Anti, glitching through to prank him with strange flowers, but it wasn’t in the other egos style to do something like that, so Dark quickly dismissed the thought.

At a loss for the reason why, Dark continued to ignore them.

The answer soon made itself apparent.

It was during a charity livestream. Dark was watching from his room, where he promised to stay to make sure the cameras didn’t accidently pick him or his aura up. Mark was laughing at something, a joke that had been made in the chat of the video about the charity stream, and Dark’s chest had constricted.

An odd feeling began to rise in him, almost as if something was trying to claw its way out of his chest. His lungs burned, unable to bring in enough air for a proper breath, and his heart seemed to be beating at twice the normal rate, which didn’t seem possible. Hunching over his laptop, Dark coughed harshly, hand over his mouth, and the harsh tickle in his throat slowly subsided, becoming a gentle softness resting on his tongue. Spitting the offending object out, Dark found it was a Daffodil petal, curled because of the dampness of his mouth, but still a beautiful, bright yellow against his palm. Almost immediately breathing became easier and his heart rate slowed.

He stared at it for a long time, the stream forgotten.

Coughing up flowers…all of which had a connection to love. It was absurd! Dark wasn’t in love with anyone, he doubted he could even feel the emotion genuinely, but curiosity drove him to google the meaning behind coughing up flower petals.

The laptop almost went flying across the room at the answer.

“Hanahaki Disease.” Dark whispered, “A disease widely thought to be a myth, as it is only documented in official records three times. It is a disease born of unrequited, one-sided love, and the main symptom seems to be the regurgitation of flower petals from inside the lungs. There is no known cure, but it has been speculated that reciprocation of love will cure the disease. If left untreated, the disease will slowly spread through the entirety of the chest cavity, puncturing the lungs and clogging the airwaves and causing death.”

It was almost laughable, but Dark couldn’t quite bring himself to make a sound after he finished reading. How could he have such a disease? He wasn’t in love with anyone.

Closing the webpage, the livestream feed popped back up and Mark was talking again, some inane babble as he was wont to do. Dark’s chest constricted again, the same clawing feeling itching at the back of his throat, and his shell cracked violently.

Mark.

No.

He was not-.

There was no way he could be-.

In love with Mark?

His existence, his entire reason for being there was to destroy Mark and take over his channel, to manipulate as many people as he could to make sure all the attention was on him, that he didn’t fade. And now…his body was telling him that he had fallen in love.

Of course, if it were true, it would be unreciprocated. Mark made no effort to hide that he only tolerated Dark, on occasions liked him when Dark decided to be helpful rather than a dangerous hindrance. The Youtuber was more than happy with Amy…and there was no way that was ever going to change, even if Dark used his aura and silver-tongue to try.

Dark kicked himself for even entertaining the idea that this was true. He couldn’t trust the source the description had come from, and if living with Mark had proven anything, it was the internet liked to take small “romantic” stories and blow them out of proportion. Snapping his laptop shut, Dark told himself he was going to put it out of his mind for good.

But really, when had life ever been that simple.

Now he was aware of the symptoms and what they potentially meant, everything became worse. The petals no longer only appeared in the morning, clearly coughed up in the night. Dark had to spend more time excusing himself from Mark’s presence than was normal, just to hide away in the bathroom and cough until his entire body was aching, and there were blood stained petals all around him.

The petal variation continued to increase as well.

Red roses for love.

Morning Glory for love in vain.

Small, full flowered Acacia’s for secret love.

Dark began to lose count after a while how many petals came and what they symbolised, too busy just trying to hold onto consciousness when they appeared.

The first time such an attack woke him in the middle of the night, clawing at his chest in an attempt to breath and cutting off his air completely to the point he nearly passed out, Dark knew he had to make a plan. And the only plan he could think of that would hold any sort of healing power, was to finally make a move and get rid of Mark. If there was no one around for him to ‘love’, then there were would be no petals anymore. It was sound logic, and if Dark was honest with himself, this had been a long time coming. Living with Mark had made him soft, he hadn’t been trying as hard to truly achieve his main goals of control, but that was about to change.

He wasn’t going to lose his life for something as small, and petty, as apparent love.

Opportunities to get rid of Mark liked to present themselves on silver platters as well, Dark found. The man was slightly clumsy, and so easy to manipulate even though he knew Dark’s nature in and out since he had created him. It was so easy to talk him into falling down the stairs, or slicing himself while cooking, or even walking into an elevator that was clearly marked as out of service. The resulting fall down the shaft would have broken every bone in his body, and Dark had excitedly watched as Mark walked closer to the edge, only to have his heart flip-flop in his chest and his brain spasm at what he was doing.

With a burning in his lungs every time he watched Mark get close to death, Dark would save him. Petals would burst from his lips as he did, but he would skilfully hide them, and Mark would be none the wiser thanks to Dark’s aura.

It soon became clear that killing Mark was not an option. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of living in a world without him, without ever hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, or even the brief moments where they made physical contact caused Dark literal pain. His lungs rejected the idea of killing Mark so much that Dark began to believe if he actually went through with it, he’d end up dying himself through the blasted disease inside his chest.

Something had to change.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

Anti found out by accident.

He was over from Brighton, bored at Jack’s house because he wasn’t home but out with family who had come to visit, and so had decided to come and bug Dark. As he glitched into the room, Dark fell to his knees, coughing so hard blood came before the petals, spattering the wooden floor beneath him a crimson red. It felt like an entire flower was trying to bloom out of the back of his throat, and from the number of petals he spat out, Dark wouldn’t have been surprised if that was indeed the case.

Anti was calling his name when he finally came back to himself.

“You look terrible.” The glitch muttered, rubbing Dark’s back as the ego continued to shudder, shell barely held together from the force of it all. “What the fuck is going on Dark?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Dark rasped.

And he was right.

“Hanahaki Disease isn’t real.” Anti laughed, closing Dark’s laptop and staring at the grey-skinned ego in disbelief, “Have you really convinced yourself you’ve got it?!”

Dark couldn’t stop the anger bubbling inside him from coming forth, and he sent Anti slamming backwards into the wall, one hand around his throat. “Believe me Anti, I was just as sceptical about the idea as you were.” He hissed, voice scratchy from the coughing and lips blood red, “But how about you try constantly coughing up flower petals every time you go near your host, or in the middle of the night, or just at random intervals in the day. How about you try living with the fear that the next time it happens you might not be able to catch your breath again as your lungs punish you for feeling an emotion that is supposed to elicit joy. How about you try living with this for _months_ , always hiding it, always acutely aware that nothing is ever going to make it better?! Then come back and tell me it isn’t fucking real.”

Anti was wide-eyed when the outburst finished, and Dark released him from his grip with shaking hands, his shell popping and cracking back into place harshly.

“This has been going on for months?” Anti asked softly.

Dark nodded.

“And you’re in love with Mark?”

Running a hand through his hair, Dark mentally kicked himself for ever mentioning Mark, since he probably wouldn’t hear the end of it. Anti however, just looked worried.

“Is there a cure?” He inquired.

Shaking his head, Dark collapsed backwards onto his bed with a huffed laugh. “No. Well, a speculated one is that if the other person falls in love with you, it’ll cure it. And there’s about as much chance of that happening as you suddenly sprouting feathers.”

“Hey, you’re coughing up flowers, anything could happen.” Anti shrugged, although the tightness of his tone told Dark he was joking out of discomfort.

Dark laughed quietly, appreciative of Anti’s attempts to lighten the mood. And that was that, in the end. Anti didn’t bring it up again, merely sat with Dark and rubbed his back and told him how to breath when the attacks happened. Dark could tell he was itching to attack Mark, to tell him, to do something to cure Dark of what was happening to him, but he held back.

When the shakes started, Dark knew there was little time left.

He woke one morning to find Mark standing over him, a concerned look in his eyes.

“You were screaming.” He said quietly, “You okay?”

“I don’t need your concern.” Dark spat, and it hurt to reject him, to see the myriad of emotions flash through his eyes before Mark finally threw up his hands.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Dark?” He demanded.

It was too early in the morning for this and Dark could feel the petals coming and this was going to be an attack worse than one he had ever felt before, and he really needed Mark to get out of his personal space, but the man wasn’t moving until he got answers.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Dark sneered in response.

Mark sighed, “You’ve become a completely different person. Always avoiding me, never wanting to do anything with the channel anymore…you just hide yourself away.”

“Yes, maybe because I hate you and I don’t want anything to do with you!” Dark shouted. The words were partially true, because even if his heart had betrayed him by loving Mark, he also hated the man for creating such a painful reminder of love inside him. “Maybe you should just watch your back because things seem quiet now, but they won’t always be.”

The words had their desired effect and Mark left him alone. Dark wretched and coughed, plucking nearly fully formed flowers from the back of his throat now instead of singular, soft petals.

His body wouldn’t stop shaking after that conversation.

Anti became a permanent feature in their house, and Mark became nervous around him because the glitch made no effort to hide his contempt for Mark when he was around. Mark had no idea what he had done, but he felt incredibly guilty and worried whenever Anti was there but Dark was too tired to care anymore.

His makeup became a way to hide the bags under his eyes from barely sleeping anymore, his suits became a way to hide the sallowness of his body from being unable to eat or take any sort of sustenance. Every breath was shaky, the oxygen barely having enough room amidst the flower petals and vines of the disease snaking through him. Dark felt as if he no longer had control of his muscles, they would constantly twitch and he would constantly shake and nothing made it better except being close to Mark, but that always made it worse in the end.

Dark knew the flowers had finally punctured a lung when he woke up choking on blood. His gurgled breaths woke Anti, who was resting next to him, and he had never seen the glitch so panicky before.

“You can’t die on me!” He demanded, voice sounding far away past the rushing in Dark’s ears. “Don’t leave me alone!”

And he was right, Dark thought slowly. If he died from this disease, Anti would be the only ego left around. If he ever came back, he wouldn’t be the same, and Anti would only have memories to keep him going.

In that moment, all Dark wanted to do was live, but it was getting harder. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even draw breath, his airway blocked by a large, black rose. Anti told him so, told him he had could see the flower pressing against the skin of Dark’s throat, and when he looked in Dark’s mouth, he saw the jet-black petals.

Death.

The final flower was death.

Ironic.

Anti was holding his hand. He was no longer begging, seemingly accepting that Dark wasn’t going to make it.

Dark reached for him, grasping at his t-shirt and pulling him down enough to be able to trace the cut on Anti’s neck. He got the message immediately, since Dark couldn’t form proper words.

“End it now.”

It was too painful, Dark didn’t want to die like this. If he was going to die, may as well be quick. Anti’s hand’s didn’t’ shake as he pulled out his knife, and Dark didn’t get to see what he did, eyes closing as his body gave out from the lack of sufficient oxygen.

When his eyes reopened, Dark was surprised to find his room. His body was nothing but a hotbed of pain, and yet breathing was surprisingly easy. Anti was still next to him, hands covered in blood, and cupped in one palm was a perfectly formed black rose.

“Don’t try and speak.” He whispered when he saw Dark was awake, “You won’t be able to for a while.”

Silently, Dark peered at him, asking with his eyes what he had done.

“I cut it out of you Dark.” Anti murmured, “It’s gone.”

In his other hand, Anti held up a picture of Mark. Dark blanched, expecting extremely painful convulsions in his chest but nothing happened. No pain, no coughing, no crawling feeling of a petal trying to come out, there was nothing at all. No feelings of love or caring towards Mark flooded him, just the normal feelings that had been there before all this had started.

“You’ll have a few new scars.” Anti said softly, “But no more pain.”

Unable to speak, Dark reached for Anti’s hand, the one holding the black rose. Pressing their hands together, he destroyed the flower, a silent word of thanks to the glitch in front of him.

Anti shrugged, although under his slight glitch, Dark could see a smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](https://egotisticalfloof.tumblr.com/)


End file.
